The Prophecy of Valeo
by clover-moon
Summary: During the summer after Giny's fifth year, she grabs Harry's affection as he falls deep in love with her; and she with him, until the day that Draco shows up on her doorstep with no other choice but to go to her as his father plots to become the Dark Lord
1. Of Freckles & Flirtation

  
_Godric walked through the large stone corridor of the upper castle into an immense, Victorian ballroom; one of many in the mansion. He smiled slightly as he saw her standing, her back encased in a beautiful yellow dress, facing him. She looked out the window absentmindedly. _

His black boots echoed slightly off the far walls and she turned around, her golden hair in a loose braid over her shoulder. She gave an affectionate smile, showing all her sparkling white teeth to try and hide her guilt. Even as she had looked into the face of evil, she was truly the embodiment of radiance. Even as she kissed his poisoned lips, she was still the purest woman alive. 

He noticed she had a worn book lying in her lap; it must be the Prophecy. 

"Is that it?" he asked her, gesturing to it with his right hand. She nodded. 

"Tis nearly finished." She opened the front cover and he walked over to her, taking the book from her grasp and read the neat, loopy writing on the yellowed pages. He sighed. 

"I wish it could be all of us," he said wistfully. Helga touched his shoulder warmly. 

"He does not harness the power as you do," she told him quietly, knowing this was a lie. He took her hand in his as he followed her past gaze out of the large glass window covering the south wall. 

"We've worked tirelessly for so long, Helga. Our work could be banished within seconds. I hope he does not turn." But Godric knew, deep within his soul, that he already had. 

* * * 

It was a day like any other early June day; Virginia Weasley woke to the sound of sparrows chirping madly, the sun just above the horizon of hilly forest sides. But despite the beautiful, harmonious morning that had just begun, she was still a cranky fifteen-year-old who would much rather sleep in until twelve, and her incredibly odd dreams weren't helping matters at all. 

Nevertheless, she rubbed her red, puffy eyes with one weak fist and rolled her tongue in a yawn, licking the old dew off her lips from sleeping with her mouth open the whole night. Shuffling across the hardwood floor and out the door, she thudded gracelessly down the steps and into the cramped kitchen where a horribly embarrassing surprise was waiting for her. 

With her eyes barely open and her hair about six times larger than it normally was, she certainly was not expecting to see Harry Potter sitting at the table gnawing at a piece of buttered toast absentmindedly. Hoping beyond hope that he hadn't seen her, she raced back up the stairs as quickly as she had come down and slammed her door shut with a bang. Her crush seemed to have come back with a vengeance after her fifth year, and the scene in the Quidditch locker rooms played itself over in her head for the umpteenth time: 

_"You were great out there, Harry." _

"Oh, Thanks. I didn't really mean to do that to Malfoy…" 

"You don't have to lie to me, you know. I would have whacked him with my broom as well if he did that to me…It's just the place you did it to him, you know…Didn't look very comfortable, did it?" He laughed. 

"No." 

"I'd better go; Ron's waiting for me outside." She turned to leave, but heard Harry close behind her. 

"Ginny…" he said. She turned much more abruptly than he would have liked and came smack into his face- more precisely his lips. 

All the feelings that she had convinced herself were gone came rushing back in a single moment. Even though it was for less than a second, it was more than she could bare… 

Harry stared, looking up at where he had heard the door slam above him, a blank expression on his face. 

"It's Ginny," Ron said, pouring some more orange juice into his chipped glass mug. "What do you expect her to do, come downstairs with a pair Fred's boxers on her head and ask you to dance?" Harry grinned slightly. 

"Of course not. It's just... It's been five years and I come over here nearly every summer," Harry said, picking at his third helping of scrambled eggs. Ron stared at him. 

"At least she's not being forward and asking you to snog behind the oak tree," Ron retorted, making Harry blush inwardly. 

"Are you going to eat that?" Ron asked, pointing to his eggs. Harry shook his head. 

"I'm full. Here, take the bacon too," Harry added, spooning the generous remains of food onto Ron's plate. He dug into them greedily. 

"I don't see how it's possible for a human to eat that much without exploding," Harry told him. 

A few moments passed in which Harry watched Ron wolf his breakfast down noisily. And then, as if on cue right as Ron licked his plate savagely like a wild beast and wiped his mouth with a dishcloth, Harry heard a much more graceful thumping coming from the stairs. 

He turned in his wooden rotating chair and saw Ginny padding down the stairs once again. She had obviously charmed her hair to make it straight and sleek, and she was now wearing a second hand, but pretty, light green summer dress. 

She had gotten tan in the week or so that they had been off school, her freckles looking fainter than they usually were when she was at the castle. Her hair was about elbow length and it had, if anything, gotten even redder. But her smile was the same. It was the same grin that lit up her growing features with light. 

This time as the trotted down the narrow hallway, even though Harry thought he could see a hint of a blush on her cheeks, she sat down gracefully beside Ron and nibbled on a piece of toast from a wooden platter in the center of the island. 

"Hi Harry," she said, not looking at him as the scene from the previous year continued in her mind. 

"Lo, Gin," he replied happily. She gave a nervous smile. Ron, not taking notice of this, drank the rest of the juice from his mug and wiped his mouth on his sleeve rudely. Ginny glared at him for a moment before noticing that Harry was still looking at her. 

"Where's mum?" she asked. Ron shrugged. 

"I dunno. The store's my best guess." Ron gave a sly grin. "But, as long as she's not here, the clearing in the wood is always open for a little practice...," he added mischievously. 

"Ron, you _know_ we're not supposed to go there without mum casting a sealing spell on it," Ginny said, reminding Harry of Hermione. Just to be safe, he wasn't going to say anything in case a sibling rivalry (in their case, war) was on its way. 

Ron rolled his eyes and, to Harry's joy, ignored her instead of retorting back. But Harry had a strong feeling that they were most likely going to practice after breakfast, anyway. He merely narrowed his blue eyes at her, turning them into tiny slits in his freckled face. 

* * * 

Ginny, against her will, had stayed inside the house to wash the boys' dirty dishes as they undoubtedly snuck off to the woods from the back door. She glared through the window and into the grass intensely, as if it had mortally offended her. 

She scrubbed with the scouring pad into an old china plate with great strength, accidentally scratching the paint off. She finally stopped when she heard a sound like someone scraping their nails against a chalkboard coming from the side she was currently working on. 

Finally, as she saw the tip of Harry's broom stick appear out of thin air from underneath his invisibility cloak, she slammed the mutilated plate on the table with a loud thwack and removed her rubber gloves, running up the stairs. 

She opened the door to her slightly slanted, oval shaped room with blue, flowered wallpaper that she had picked out herself. Walking over to the dresser, she opened the first drawer and yanked out some denim shorts and a yellow tank top. 

It was a bit of a waste, she thought, to have made herself over, charming her hair and showing off her best dress, to just yank them off again. But she guessed that Harry would be more interested in her flying skills than her looks. 

She unbuttoned her dress and through it aside, pulling the top over her head and the shorts onto her hips. She slipped back on her flip-flops haphazardly, grabbing the old _shooting star_ beside her. She rounded corner of the room and ran through the door in frenzy, eager to show off her Quidditch skills even if it was with a crappy broom. 

* * * 

"Here we are," said Ron happily, slipping the sweltering invisibility cloak off of him and Harry, who was standing beside him, Firebolt in hand. Sweat was pouring down his face, but he knew that once he got up in the air things would definitely cool off. 

"Oh shit," Ron mumbled beside him. 

"What?" Harry asked. 

"I left the Quidditch balls in the house," he said, slapping his sweaty forehead. 

"Great. So now we're stuck in the middle of an old Quidditch pitch surrounded by trees in the bloody hot middle of nowhere," Harry said sarcastically, much unlike himself. But he couldn't help it; the one hundred degree weather was enough to get under anyone's skin. 

"God, Harry- if I didn't know better, I'd say you sound like M-," but a voice behind him cut Ron short. 

"Alright, you wooses, _now_ we're stuck in the middle of an old Quidditch pitch surrounded by trees in the bloody hot middle of nowhere, with Ron's sister and all the Quidditch supplies I could dig out of our attic," Ginny said with a large, wooden trunk under her right arm, her other grasping a shooting star. 

Harry scanned her over; she looked and acted quite differently than she had when they were back in the house. She was wearing old, faded denim shorts, and a wrinkly yellow tank top. Her hair was done up in a messy pony tail and her expression was a mix of eagerness to get in the air and a hint of sarcasm that Harry had never seen there before. 

He watched her mount her broom in takeoff position, and look hotly behind her shoulder at Ron- who wasn't used to Ginny being so forward around his friend- and Harry, who was gaping at her. Ginny, fighting another blush, kept her cool. 

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked, kicking off the ground and soaring into the air, her toes brushing the tops of the elm trees. 

"You know what?" asked Ron looking at Harry, both of the mounting their brooms. 

"What?" Harry asked. 

"I think she just asked you to snog behind the oak tree." 

* * * 

Harry stared in awe as he watched Ginny loop and swirl around in the air with perfect acquisition, and the fact the she was riding a shooting star made it all the more spectacular. Her fiery red hair whipped around in the ponytail holder behind her and he could hear the wind whistling as she cut through it at a tremendous rate. 

Harry pulled his Firebolt forward so that he was only a foot away from Ginny; she glanced over at him and flashed an impish smile. Harry followed her swerve behind an apple tree and back on the course again. 

Again and again, Ginny wove through branches trying to lose him. After a few minutes, however, when she was in the lead by a few feet, she stopped her broom and wheeled around to face him. 

What the hell is she doing? Ginny waved to him, her grin widening. Harry stared at her, dumbfounded. And after a few moments, the realization of what she had been planning hit him square in the nose- literally. 

WHAM! Harry ran headlong into a tree branch. He sat there for a moment, his broom lowering to the ground, Ginny laughing hysterically but looking a bit worried from under the glee. 

"Ouch," he mumbled, falling spread-eagle onto the grass, his glasses askew. Ron pulled down beside him, followed by Ginny. 

"Harry, all you alright?" Ginny said through a small giggle. Ron shot daggers at her. Harry lay there for a moment, staring at the sky. 

"Wow," he said. "Good move. I'll have to use it against Malfoy in the flying turtles tournament." Ron rolled his eyes. 

"Ginny, now you've done it. You're going to send him to the loony bin if you keep this crock up." Ginny rolled her eyes. 

"He'll be fine. Harry, get off the ground. We're not going to carry you home," she said, walking towards the clearing. 

Ron looked at Harry and shrugged his shoulders. 

"She can get fierce," he said, looking at Ginny as she opened the wooden gate to the pitch. 

"No, she can get gamey," Harry replied, fixing his glasses. 

* * * 

Inside the house, Ginny was sitting of the overstuffed, pale green sofa in the living room, turning the knobs on a wizard radio. Ron said something to Ginny that Harry couldn't here, and she glared at him with sharp cinnamon colored eyes. He wondered if it had to do with him. 

He opened the glass door, rubbing his forehead where a lump was forming. Ron didn't seem to notice him. 

"God, Gin, if you fancy him _that much_...," Harry made a noise in his throat without meaning to and blushed. Ron turned to look at him and pulled the collar of his shirt. 

"Er, Harry, do you want to go upstairs? I can show you your room," Ron said, trying to change the subject. Ginny cast a willful sideways glace at him. He shook his head at Ron. 

"I think I'll stay down here." Ron shrugged. 

"Suit yourself then," he said. Harry noted the strange, uneasy glance as he padded down the tiled hallway. Ginny sighed. 

"Honestly," she said, shaking her head, "I don't see why you're friends with him." 

"Well, he's loyal, caring, trustworthy...," 

"pigheaded, stupid, obsessed with the cannons, A complete loser, and basically just one huge moron all together," Ginny cut him off. Harry said nothing and sat down beside her. She turned the poor knob on the radio more vigorously than before, fighting the temptation to apologize. 

Finally, after a few moments, Ginny turned it off and set it on the ground, picking up a magazine from the floor instead. Harry watched her. She had her hair down now, and it flowed over her shoulders like grape vines. 

She tapped her foot on the floor, and Harry could tell she was stalling. Her eyes flickered over to him, then back to the page, and then back to him again like a ping pong ball. She looked at his forehead where the large lump was forming and her eyes said everything. 

"Harry, your forehead," she said, setting the magazine on her lap and reaching up to his brow. 

"No, really, I-...," but he stopped, aware that she wasn't listening. She put her forefinger on the weld, and Harry could feel it sinking, the pain lessening. And, after a few moments, he felt it go away completely. Ginny removed her hand, smiling at him. Harry stared at her in awe. 

"How did you...," Harry said. 

"It's something I've been able to do for years now," Ginny told him matter-of-factly. 

"But... the Ministry...They can track it, can't they?" Harry asked, not exactly ecstatic to be in trouble with authorities again. Ginny shook her head. 

"I don't understand it either, but dad says that they can only track magic that comes from a wand," she said. Harry nodded. 

"I can blow stuff up as well," Ginny stated. Harry stared at her in awe. 

"What did you blow up?" Harry asked cautiously, afraid that the reply might make him nauseous. Ginny giggled. 

"Well, I have to have a few hard things to help me. Did you know, one day when I was twelve, I looked into my stupid old talking mirror and it said that it couldn't make a sow's ear look like a silk purse. I threw my lamp at it and it busted into a million tiny pieces. The ministry had to come and pick it up piece by piece, because it kept screaming even though it was broken. It was quite creepy, really." 

Harry laughed. 

Ginny flicked on the light to the guestroom, Harry behind her, dragging his suitcase along the ground. The room was painted a light shade of yellow, and was shaped a little like an obtuse hexagon. Harry could see that bits of paint were peeling from the six sided walls. 

In the right corner, there was a feather bed with a matching yellow warmer. Over to the left was a work desk with parchment and quills supplied in open drawers, and a dresser was standing next to the door on clawed feet. 

"Here it is," Ginny said quietly. "If you don't like it then you can sleep in Charlie's room," she said, turning a virtually unnoticeable shade of pink. She hated going back and forth from her eleven-year-old self to the new, spunky her, but no matter how hard she tried Harry still had that affect on her. 

"No, I think it's great," Harry said. Ginny smiled. 

"Well, that's good then, because Charlie probably wouldn't be too fond of you in his room anyway. I just said that to make you feel comfortable," Harry grinned. 

"I'll help you with your suitcase," she said, looking away from him and reaching for the traveling bag. Harry blocked it. 

"No, it's okay. I can get it." He picked it up by the carrying strap and wheeled it onto the foot of the bed. Ginny stood in the doorway, picking at her nails. 

"Is that it?" she said, not looking at him. _Come on, Gin! What about how you acted on the Quidditch field? Don't let him do this to you! Not again!_

"What's wrong? Do I have something on my face? Is my fly open?" Harry joked. Ginny looked at him, dumbfounded. 

"What? Harry, I-," she began, but Harry held out a hand. 

"I was kidding. At least I got you to look at me," he said. Ginny smiled. 

"I wouldn't have seen if your fly was open anyway, do you take me to be, some kind of sick tart?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips melodramatically. Harry laughed. 

"Not in the least." He smiled at her, and she felt her heart jump into her throat. 

_Harry Potter is flirting with me. _

The two of them were silent for a moment, and Harry scratched the back of his neck. He tapped his foot on the ground, obviously waiting for her to say something. 

_Do something, stupid!_ She told herself. _Don't just stand there like a bloody git, Say goodbye, walk away, just do something!_

"I've got to go," Ginny croaked. Harry nodded, fixing his glasses. 

"I had a good time flying today," he said, apparently wanting to start another conversation before Ginny walked out on him. 

"Yeah, it was great." 

"You're a good flyer," Harry said, looking into her eyes. Ginny laughed nervously. _STOP IT!_ "Hmm." She bit her bottom lip and turned to walk out the door, her hair flying behind her lightly. She made to close the door when Harry spoke again, his voice croakier than usual. 

"Er, Ginny?" he said. 

"Yeah?" 

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it. 

"Never mind, it's nothing," he said quietly, staring at his, apparently, very interesting hands. "It's not important." 

* * * 

Ginny rapped on her brother's door fiercely. She could hear some rustling and then Ron's footsteps before he turned the doorknob and faced her. She glared at him menacingly. 

"You're a conceited prat," Ginny said simply. Usually, Ginny saved this kind of language for when she met Malfoy in the Halls of Hogwarts, but she was ready to scream at her brother for hours on end. 

Ron stared at her, and she knew that he knew why she was yelling at her. 

"It's not like he didn't know that you liked him. Don't push it, Gin. He's obviously not interested, because he hasn't said more than twenty syllables to you at once," Ron said unkindly. 

"Shows what you know," she said, spitting fire at him and crossing her arms immaturely. She wasn't quite sure if she knew what she was talking about. 

Ron rolled his eyes. 

"Fine. Spend the rest of your life running after Harry Potter. Here's my promise to you. If you two hook up, then I'll support you all the way, but I strongly encourage you to not get your hopes up. This just proves how sure I am that it's not going to happen," Ron said, closing the door in her face. Ginny smiled to herself, though she had no idea why. 

* * * 

That afternoon when Mrs. Weasley came home from the market, she cooked them all lunches of turkey sandwiches and chips. The kitchen was less crowded and looked larger now that all of the other Weasley children had moved out- Fred and George a year ago. 

Ginny, still fuming at Ron, sat by Harry to his unconscious delight. He watched her eat a potato chip out of the corner of his eye. She stared at the pan, which was cleaning itself in the sink, her mind obviously a million miles away. 

Her hair was pulled back by a black bobby pin, and Harry could see the full length of her eyelashes as he scanned her profile. Her face seemed to curve flawlessly at the base of her nose, and her lips formed a perfect "M" shape. 

He had never really looked at Ginny before; he had always seen her, always known that she was there and alive, but had never really looked at her. Up close, studied her, took the time to notice her. He scolded himself for taking her for granted. 

He snapped back to reality- this was _Ginny._

_So what?_ He barked at himself. _Ron wouldn't mind, and she's a girl and she's pretty. So what's wrong? HE'S YOUR BEST FRIEND'S SISTER! THAT'S WHAT'S WRONG!_

But deep down, even with this simple explanation, Harry really couldn't answer his own question. 

* * * 

Draco closed his eyes and felt his head sink into his feather pillow. He tried to ignore the screaming coming from below him. He'd gotten partly used to it now, but he never would completely. 

The first time his mother and father had fought with each other was lost in his mind, but he could still remember what he had thought when it had happened: _We're rich. Rich people aren't supposed to fight, they're supposed to be happy and have everything go right._

But he knew better now. Draco's mother had always tried to conceal what they quarreled about, but he had figured it out long before. His father was a death eater, and they had mountainous amounts of objects belonging to the Dark arts under their mansion. 

Lucius had begun to practice some Dark spells on himself in his den last year, and Narcissa was slowly beginning to hate him for it. 

He had kept his head high at school, pretending like everything was going perfectly, and if anything he had gotten more stuck-up. But he knew. Deep inside his stomach, the cold and icy feeling grew every day. 

Draco's life was falling apart. 

* * * 

Inside his room, Harry was packing away his cloths into the dresser I the far corner when someone knocked on the door quietly. 

"Come in," he said loudly, picking up a pair of boxers patterned with a golden snitch. 

Ginny opened the door and Harry felt his ears redden as he tried to hide the boxers behind his back. She snorted. 

"I guess this means the end of the rhetorical boxers or briefs question," she said. Harry laughed nervously, shoving them into the open drawer sloppily. "Anyway, I just wondered if you were done unpacking yet or if you brought enough shirts to cover the country of China." She leaned coolly n the doorway. _Yes. Yes! THIS IS GOOD!_

"You know, you've changed a lot since last year. Is his the new Ginny, or is it just a hormonal thing?" Harry asked. 

"A little bit of both, I guess," Ginny replied, looking thoughtful. "I never really thought about it." 

She walked over to the suitcase on the bed, Harry following her, and took out an ash colored sweatshirt with a picture of three golden Quidditch hoops printed on the front. 

"Is everything you wear related to Quidditch?" she asked him. "I didn't even know they made Quidditch boxers." 

"I have Quidditch socks, too," Harry said, remembering Dobby the house elf vividly. Then Ginny suggested something Harry would have ever thought her to ask of anyone, let alone him. 

"Model for me." 

* * * 

_Dear Mione, _

Not much has been going on at the burrow. Harry arrived yesterday via his broom and we went to play Quidditch today. Ginny followed us and tried to get Harry's attention by flying around in the orchard. She ended up making him smack into a tree branch headlong, and it's safe to say she got her wish. She's still tagging along after him, and it's really quite annoying. Other than that, we've all had a great time playing around in the backyard and doing impressions of Malfoy snogging Crabbe- don't worry, it wasn't with each other. Tell us if you're going to stay over in your next letter, and I'll tell Mum. 

Your friend, 

Ron 

He scanned over the letter quickly and opened the door I Pigs cage; He fluttered out madly, nearly upsetting the ink bottle on the desk. Ron rolled his eyes and grabbed the minute owl in his right hand, wrestling the note onto its foot. 

He let it go and it dove out the window with a small clink as the note hit the sill. Ron stared after Pig for a moment before returning to his desk and pulling Hermione's note out of the study drawer, her neat cursive inked in black. 

_Dear Ron, _

How has summer been treating you? Not much has been going on at my house; Mum and Dad have been at the dentists' office. It seems that all of England has a nasty bout of cavity decay. All of my holiday homework is finished (big surprise, Ron thought) an It's deadly boring not having any lessons. How's Ginny? Tell her love from Hermione. If Harry's there tell him I said hello as well. If it's okay with everyone over there, my parents said it was alright if I stayed at your house for summer. Owl me soon! 

Love from, 

Mione 

Ron smiled to himself slightly as he thought about her bossy, overachieving, and all-around lovely voice telling him to do his homework for the umpteenth time. 

* * * 

"Have you gone completely bugger?" Harry asked exasperatedly as he stared at the grinning Ginny. She smiled wider. _HAHAHA! YOU ARE IN CONTROL OF THE SITUATION!_

"Just do it. I dare you." Harry rolled his eyes. 

"Awe, come on, I'm not going to fall from some stupid little children's game," he said, his arms crossed on his chest. Ginny laughed and threw her head back. 

"If you model for me, I'll model for you," she chorused. _GOOD! GOOD! BAIT HIM!_ Harry's gazed snapped to her, a mischievous smile forming on his lips. 

"Okay. I'll do it, only because if the tension here doesn't turn into hideous laughter I'm quite likely to explode," he said. "Where do I change?" he asked, afraid that the answer might be "here", with Ginny's lost-and-then-found-again attitude. 

"There's a bathroom down the hall," she said. He sighed from relief. 

"Okay. Give me those jeans and that ash sweater," he said, gesturing to Ginny's hand. She stared at him, moving it slowly behind her head. 

"Who said anything about modeling in your clothes?" she asked him. Harry gulped. 


	2. Questioner and Questionee

  
Yeah. I don't own didly squat. DIDLY SQUAT, PEOPLE!!!! And no one does. Except for JK. But somehow I doubt that nay of you are JK. Meh. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Come on Harry, it can't be that bad!" Ginny said, rapping on the bathroom door. There was silence for a few second before He spoke. 

"I'm not coming out!" he roared. "Nothing can be worth this!" Ginny decided to play her trump card early, and worked up her courage again. She seemed to have to will it back to her every few minutes to keep up the flirtatious banter. 

"Not even me in your boxers?" she cooed beguilingly. Harry was silent again before Ginny heard a satisfying _click_. The door slowly opened by itself and Ginny snorted, trying to keep herself from falling to the ground in hysterical fits of hurtful laughter. 

Harry stood before her, his fists clenched a scowl on his face. He wore a pink spaghetti-string summer dress and a straw, wide brimmed hat that squished his hair down so that it was plastered to his face in messy locks. 

"I hate you," he mumbled. 

"Er, that color looks good on you," Ginny said, and finally burst out in a fit of giggles. It seemed to go on for hours and Harry just stood there, experimenting on just how far his eyes could roll up into the back of his head while his face burned red. 

He finally stomped off into the guest room and slammed the door with a bang. Ginny quieted, and a few moments later, the door opened a few inches and Harry's arm flung out at Ginny the ash-colored sweat shirt and the snitch boxers. 

"This better be good!" he yelled. 

* * * 

Draco's mother flung the door to his room open and he sat quickly up on the bed, looking at her with a mixture of anxiety and a hint of worry. She raced over and grabbed him by the shoulders. 

"Mum, what are you-," Draco began, but Narcissa cut him short. 

"Draco, use the floo powder by the fireplace to go to Knockturn alley. At the end of the street, there is a shop called celo scelus. Tell the guard at the door that you are a Malfoy and he'll let you in. Go to vault 709 and say this spell to open it. 

Narcissa shoved a yellowed piece of parchment into his hand and she said the last bit. 

"Come back here and use the magical globe in the living room to locate the nearest wizarding family. Fly there and don't come back for _anything_ under no circumstances. Don't ask any questions, and try not to miss me," she said, kissing his forehead. 

Draco stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, before she hissed, _"Go."_

* * * 

Harry sat on the feather bed in the dress, trying to figure out how to sit without having his underwear exposed. 

_The things girls wear to get noticed,_ he thought. These were broken when he heard light footsteps coming from down the hallway. Ginny knocked once on the door and opened it with a sleeved hand. Harry gasped and felt his stomach twist into a thousand tiny knots when he saw her. 

Ginny was leaning in the doorway of the guest room, her arms crossed. The Quidditch hoop sweatshirt covered her hands, the neck hole drooped to the tips of her shoulders, and the waist fell to the ends of her thighs. Peeking out from behind that were the boxers, the snitches gleaming stunningly. 

Her hair, as always, fell across her shoulders in wavy loops. He could only stare at her, an odd feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. 

"Harry, are you alright?" Ginny said, cocking her head to the side. Harry nodded slowly. 

"Yeah, I'm okay," he said softly. "But I think I might've ruined your dress." Ginny laughed and began to walk over to him. 

"You really do look good in that co- _whoa!"_ she yelled as she "tripped" over a notch in the hardwood floor, which sent her spiraling to the bed and into Harry's chest where she landed with an almighty _FUMP_. 

_Well this worked out well._

She lifted her head to look at his face, her hair showering the two of them. She lifted herself onto her arms, their legs hopelessly entwined. Harry could feel her warm breath. She smelled like cherries and her breath was welcoming and smoky. 

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking at his neon green eyes. Harry noticed that up close, Ginny's own eyes had specks of turquoise mixed in with the brown he had glanced at previously. He smiled. 

"I'm not," he whispered, rolling her onto her back. And then he kissed her. 

* * * 

Draco landed in the hard fireplace of a smelly shop with a log digging into his back. For a moment, he thought he might have been paralyzed. But everything seemed to be working correctly, aside from the fact that he was white with shock. 

Finally, when he had gained the use of all his limbs, he climbed out from the ashes and firewood to find that he was in a store that seemed to be completely dedicated to the art of shrinking human heads. 

He raced out the door with a nasty look from the moldy shopkeeper and sped down the lumpy road, curious people staring at his back where a large knot the size of a bludger was forming. 

Draco could never remember having ever looked like this in public; his platinum blonde hair was messy and full of dust, and his expensive cloths were covered with ashes and dirt. But something in his mother's voice made him run faster, despite the pain in his lower back that was growing with every step he took. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he reached the storage shop winded, bleeding from a cut above his right eyebrow, and sore everywhere he could possibly think of. The large, troll-like guard at the front gate stared at him suspiciously. 

"I'm ...a... Malfoy," he panted. The guard didn't budge. 

"Brand please," he said in a monotone. 

_Brand? Like liquor brand?_

"Uh…Jermyn's Firewhiskey?" he said, his mind clouded. The man scowled. 

"You're _brand_, sir…Your tattoo." 

"Oh," Draco said in blurred understanding, and lifted up his arm to show the guard the Malfoy symbol that had been burned into place on his wrist. 

"Please step forward." The guard took one giant step to the left in order to let the true Malfoy through. 

Draco opened to door to the musty old shop which looked deserted except for a skinny, balding wizard asleep at the front desk. Deciding it best not to wake him, he walked behind the slumbering man into a towering hall full of odd-looking doors with carvings around the frames. 

The room was dimply lit by a few torches here and there nailed to the muddy walls. He walked for at least half an hour, his eyes scanning the doors, before he found room 709. He pulled the parchment his mother had given him out of his pocket and began to whisper the Latin words, careful not to mispronounce. 

"Inquam ianua pectorous dissimulo." 

There was a disturbing list of sounds from behind the door and then a loud scraping as it slid clear into the wall, leaving a gaping rectangular hole in its place. 

* * * 

It was like nothing Ginny had ever felt before. Her head spun wildly and everything bad inside of her disappeared. The weight on top of her body was oddly satisfying, and Harry seemed solid, yet she melted into him at the same time. She could hear his heart beating rapidly and after a few moments hers beat to the same rhythm. 

The curves and notches in their bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, and Ginny ran her fingers through his messy hair affectionately. All of the feelings that had built up inside her were pouring out and she never wanted it to end. 

The scene was humiliating and insanely romantic at the same time, and Ginny nearly had to stop and throw up from the overwhelming sense of joy that the kiss gave her. Finally, their lips parted reluctantly, leaving them both panting slightly. 

"My heart's pounding," Harry whispered. 

Ginny closed her eyes and pulled him by the collar of his dress to her again. She wanted to say I love you; she wanted to curl up by a big fireplace and read Moby Dick next to him on a bear skin rug. But all that she could do at the moment was kiss him with all of the emotions she could think of pulsing through her veins. 

Finally, Ginny felt him roll over onto the bed and she opened her eyes. He laced his finger with hers and lay on his side. She did the same and propped her head on her hand. 

"You're a good kisser," he said. Ginny smiled. He reached over and wrapped his arms around her. She wriggled closer to him and Harry buried his head in her hair. 

"It's weird, isn't it?" she said. 

"Hmm?" he said into her head. His breath tickled her scalp. 

"I mean, a week ago you knew me as Ron's little sister. The next thing you know, I'm in your boxers." Harry lifted his chin. 

"I think I loved you before now. Unconsciously, anyway," he said. Ginny sighed. 

"So what do you think Ron'll do?" she asked him. Harry laughed quietly, and with a hint of bitterness. 

"Well, first I think he'll turn every color in the rainbow-from shock, I hope, not anger- and then he'll either strangle me or laugh hysterically," he said thoughtfully. 

"Oooh, can I watch?" Ginny said. 

"If you really want to. I'm just warning you, if I die in there, you're going to be the first witness they call to the stand." 

* * * 

_Dear Ron, _

Pig sent me your reply today, and I put him in a pillowcase to shut him up. I just pried a ball of feathers out of his mouth; he was choking a minute ago. Anyway, our family is going to America for a vacation until the end of June. I'll probably be there by the beginning of July. So how are Harry and Gin? You shouldn't by mad at her for liking him. I have a sneaking suspicion about those two...Cheers! 

Love, 

Hermione 

P.S. You really shouldn't make fun of Malfoy like that. Last year was hard for him. But on the whole scale of how long you've been enemies, I guess you're right. He's still a prat. 

P.S.S. I'm sending Henry with my letter. Pig's a little winded. 

Hermione scanned over the note quickly before opening the door to the gray owl's cage. He stepped boldly from his perch and held out his left leg, and Hermione tied it to him with a bit of twine. 

He took off from the desk immediately and flew out the half-open window of Hermione's bedroom. She smiled and twisted a lock of shining brown hair absentmindedly. Ron was such a good friend, if not more than that. 

* * * 

Draco crawled out of the den fireplace ten times more hurt and exhausted than before. He coughed for a moment, sprawled on the cashmere carpet, and threw up a mixture of saliva, dirt, and blood. 

The pain in his back was intensifying to the point of knocking him out, and a sharp grinding sensation in his knee told him that it was wither sprained, or broken. He limped heavily to the large and magnificent globe in the corner of the room, pressed his finger where he was currently- the Malfoy Mansion, and closed his eyes. 

"Exsto!" he said as loud as he could. His finger was pulled around to the other side of the globe and the point at which it stopped glowed yellow. He waited a moment, and it shot a few sparks into the air about an inch about the surface of the globe, then miniscule white words appeared just above them. He read it and his heart stopped beating from the bitter irony of the entire situation. 

The tiny letters grouped together to form two words; The Weasleys. 

* * * 

"Here," Harry said, tossing Ginny the pink tank top dress. He had already changed into a beater Tee-shirt and a pair of worn in blue jeans. Ginny caught it and smiled. She was, gladly, back in her yellow shirt and shorts. 

"I'll be washing this, then," she said. Harry grinned and his uncovered eyes lit up magnificently. 

"You wouldn't happen to know what happened to my glasses, would you?" he asked, scratching his head. "I think you knocked them off when we were...er...," 

"Snogging like crazed maniacs who had just gotten out of jail?" she finished for him. Harry nodded. 

"Exactly," He said. Ginny reached into the mass of blankets on the bed and pulled out his wire lined spectacles. He took them gratefully. "Thanks," he said, leaning forward and kissing her on the forehead. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. 

"God, you're such a romantic. We've been together for a total of five minutes and you're already kissing my forehead. At this rate, you'll be calling me sweetie in an hour. Honestly, I don't see how you fight the girls off," Ginny said, shaking her head. 

* * * 

Draco lifted the sack on his shoulder to keep it from falling off his arm as he half ran, half limped through the dining room. He was partway to the door when a venomous voice startled him. 

"Hello, son." Draco turned slowly around to see his father staring at him, his face expressionless except for a tiny sneer in the corners of his mouth. 

"Where's Mum?" Draco snarled, though he knew already. He remembered his mother's chilling words at his bed side; _try not to miss me._

"Oh, she's dead," Lucius said casually. "I killed her an hour ago." 

"You're a bastard," Draco said evenly, shock overcoming him. He wondered when it would wear off and if he'd break down. Either that or he'd throw hard things and try to kill someone; preferably his father. 

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Lucius said, smiling horribly. "You've got the mark of our family on your arm. You can't erase your past, Draco." Draco swallowed hardly. "Narcissa was only getting in the way of my plan." 

"What plan?" Draco barked. 

"To become the next Dark Lord, of course. What did you think, that I was performing all of the spells on myself for fun?" Lucius said matter-of-factly. "Now I'm quite sorry son, but I'm going to have to kill you now." 

"I hate you," he said, running to the door and sprinting up the spiraling stairs to his room. He opened the door and grabbed his broom off the concrete wall, whisking over to the window and flinging it open. He mounted it as he leaned on the sill and heard footsteps racing up the staircase behind him. 

Without a second thought, he pushed off the side of the mansion with his feet and flew out into the early noon air just as Lucius entered his room. Draco turned his head and saw his father staring at him from the open window; just staring. Not bellowing Avada Kedavra, not screaming at him to come back. 

Whatever happened to him in the future, he would always remember Lucius staring at him as he escaped from his home, hoping to never return. 

_Dear Mione, _

Harry and Ginny are fine. They've been hanging around together a lot lately, and I think I've figured out what your mean by I have a feeling about the two of them... but do you think that could actually happen? I mean, as far as I know Harry just knows Gin as my little sister. But you never know... You're the smart one, what do you think? The whole thing's got me stumped and, quite frankly, ready to hurl. On a lighter hand, pick me up something from America. I would quite like a girl, but if you can't capture one for me, a hat or t shirt would do nicely as well. 

Love, 

Ron 

P.S. You're just sticking up for Malfoy because he fed you a bunch of lies about his family. I'm holding on to my Weasley way- anything concerning the word Malfoy should be thrown mercilessly into a blazing chemical fire. Rule number 1 in my Dad's book. 

P.S.S. Keep pig as long as you want. It keeps my ink bottles from being upset every five minutes. 

* * * 

A small knock on Ron's door announced Harry and Ginny's arrival, and they opened the door without needing an answer. Ron wasn't facing them; he had his body towards the window and was clicking a pen between his fingers on the desk top. Harry cleared his throat and he turned around. 

"Hey, buddy," Harry said. Ron's facial expression hardened. 

"What's the deal?" Ron asked, looking at Ginny, then Harry again and then back at Ginny. She stared at the floor. 

"Er...," was all she could manage. "You know that bet you made the other day?" 

"Yeah," said Ron, obviously confused. "The one about you and Harry." Harry blushed despite himself. 

"Well...," Ginny said. 

"Oh, come off it!" Harry said. "We kissed. Me and your sister. Now, if you want to rip me to shreds and use my internal organs as a haunting bagpipe, then go ahead. Just don't let Gin see." 

"Fine," Ron muttered. Harry and Ginny alike both stared at him, their mouths wide and gaping. 

"What?" they said in harmony. 

"I said fine," Ron said again. "I don't care." A few moments silence past before either of them could speak. 

"Thanks," Harry murmured. 

"Whatever," Ron retorted. Ginny grabbed Harry by the sleeve of his tee-shirt and forced him out the door, closing it behind her. 

"Well _that_ was disturbingly easy," Harry said. Ginny nodded. 

* * * 

Thud, thud, thud. It sounded like someone rapping on glass. Thud, thud, thud. It grew louder and more frequent. She was in the kitchen, cleaning the island from the day's breakfast. Her mother and father were gone on a last-minute business trip to London. Harry and Ron had gone to the store an hour ago and were due back any second. Thud, thud, thud. She stopped cleaning and followed the noise to the front door. The clinking stopped, and Ginny slowly opened the door. A flash of platinum blonde hair and sticky red blood, and then... 

She woke in her own bedroom, the smell of sweat rising in her nostrils. It had been so real, not a dream, but something that was actually happening or would happen to her. A premonition? She didn't know. But that hair... she could remember it from somewhere. She dug her head into her pillow, trying to go back to bed. 

* * * 

The next morning when Harry, Ginny and Ron were eating breakfast, Mrs. Weasley rushed into the kitchen, grabbing a few odds and ends from the drawers. 

"Hallo, Mom," Ron said brightly. Mrs. Weasley grunted in reply and continued to grab things. 

"Er, whatcha doing?" Ginny asked. Mrs. Weasly stopped, sitting a traveling bag heavily on the table grumpily. 

"Your father just received a call from the Ministry. Apparently, there's been an accident shape-shifting pencil sharpener in London that changed into a Dragon. He's been assigned there as a business trip," she said, her face screwed up in bitterness. "Some vacation." 

Ginny's stomach disappeared- Her mother and father had gone on a last-minute business trip to London. 

Mrs. Weasly kissed each of them on the forehead as a quick goodbye and then hurried out the door, where the sound of a car motor could be heard. 

Ginny looked through the hallway blankly, shock welling in the pit of her stomach. 

* * * 

Draco, his body and mind slightly over coming the shock that it had ignored for the past twelve hours, could barely stay on his broom. He was flying slightly off from a large forest of healthy trees, and couldn't help but feel that he was falling into some sort of trap. 

Even if he did make it to the Weasleys', He would be murdered anyway. But there was no time to worry about his homicide now. Finally, when the branches cleared a few moments afterward, Draco could see the tall, slanting, and horrid house on the horizon. 

Pushing himself to go faster, at last his feet stumbled onto the greenish-yellow grass in front of the burrow. He half-crawled up to the door, collapsing on the porch, his back searing with pain he had never experienced before. 

He raised his hand slowly, beginning to close his eyes. He struggled to keep them open, though; if he fell asleep he would probably die. Draco brought his knuckled to the door coyly. 

_THUD._

* * * 

Ginny's heart stopped. _Thud._ There it was- exactly like her dream. At least now she knew that it was a premonition. But that didn't explain why he was on _her_ door step. Slowly, she lowered the plate she was cleaning to the table and walked over to the door. 

She hesitated a moment before grabbing the handle and creaking the door open just enough to see Draco Malfoy's bloody and crumpled body lying at her feet before covering her mouth to stifle a scream. 

Sure he was dead, a huge lump of icy metal tore through her stomach. Despite herself, she wanted him to be alive. It was her nature to love. She dropped to her knees and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him violently until his eyes popped open, partly to her relief. 

As his vision cleared slightly, he saw Ginny standing over him, a mixture of Anger, fear, happiness, worry, and just about anything he could think of on her face. Her hair was the color of fire and his own blood. 

It was a horrifying sight. 

Both of them were silent for a moment, before Draco spoke in as much sarcasm as he could muster. 

"Stop staring at me, Weasley. I know I'm beautiful." Whatever worry in Ginny's face quickly vanished. There were so many questions in her head that she didn't know what to say. Finally, she chose an obvious one. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "And, excuse me, but aren't you the one covered in gore and as helpless as a queer in a lesbian support group?" she thought she saw a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth. 

"Long story," his said between hard breaths. "Just let me in this hell hole." That was it. Ginny closed the door in his face, and quickly regretted it. Even if this was Malfoy, and a complete and utter prat that she shall never care for, he was hurt and by the looks of it ready to die. 

Quickly, she reopened the door, dragged him by his limp arm into the hallway, and dropped him heavily head first onto the linoleum. He grunted. 

"Are you always this bitchy?" he asked. Ginny smacked him across the face, and he grunted louder. 

"I'm saving you, you ass. You were the one on my doorstep, you're my family's arch enemy, you're father cursed me with a possessed diary when I was eleven, you've humiliated me countless times at school, and you're life literally lies in the palm of my hand. So if I were you, I'd shut the hell up besides telling me why you're here in the first place. Draco sighed and scowled at the old chandelier above his head. He could feel her hand touching him on his right shoulder, and the pain subsiding, but decided to ask questions later. 

"My father's gone mental and tried to kill me," he said. Ginny rolled her eyes. She didn't believe a word of it. 

"So why didn't you just run to you're mommy?" she asked ironically. Draco bit his tongue. 

"Because she's dead." Ginny couldn't think of anything hateful to say. 

"Geez, You've got a lump the size of a basket ball on your back," she said, desperate for a subject change. "What did you do, sit in a catapult and tell a barbarian he looks like an ape?" Draco didn't respond. He had fallen asleep. She quickly fixed the last of his bruised with her hand, and realized that she felt drained, like she had run a mile. 

Figuring she should probably wake him up, she prodded him in his mended ribs. He jumped a few inches and glared at her. Then he realized that his body didn't hurt anymore. 

"What the-," he began. 

"Don't ask," Ginny said. "I won't tell you anyway. And you didn't answer my question, imbecile. Is it too hard for you? Why are you here?" Draco sneered. 

"It was the closest wizarding home from the mansion. Believe me, I would rather be in Hades than here." Ginny's fists tightened and she grabbed him by the neck of his collar dragged him up, forgetting she was weak. Perfect timing, too- she could hear Ron and Harry talking a few feet away from the back door. 

"Get your ass up those stairs, and hide in the broom closet a story up. Don't even think about moving." She pushed him and, with one last glance of hatred, he ran swiftly up the railing in front of her just as her brother and Harry opened the door and stepped inside the house. 

* * * 

The closet Draco had been ordered to hide in (which was unacceptable in itself- especially by a Weasley) was putrid. About three of four square feet around, it smelled like old cleaning fluid and moths. He closed his eyes- partly to keep the smell out of his eyes, and partly from thinking of his mother. 

It had been too soon. She wasn't supposed to go yet. And then he realized that he was nearly to the point of crying, and stopped himself. No matter what happened, he would never cry. Ever. 

Trying to revert his mind to something else, the first thing that popped in was Ginny. There were so many questions- What had she done to heal him? Why had she taken him in? Why did her horrid hair just seem to get redder ever year? And, most of all, where had she gotten all those one-liner comebacks? 

His thoughts were thankfully ripped away from him when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. 


End file.
